


The Laws of Liquor

by Louvable



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bartender Harry, Bottom Louis, Drinking, Falling In Love, Jealous Harry, Jokes, M/M, Possessive Harry, Sassy Louis, Stepbrothers, There's so much fucking humour, Top Harry, Y'all are usually used to angst from me but this was one for the lightheartedness of it, quickread
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-03 23:10:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14579667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louvable/pseuds/Louvable
Summary: HI DARK ASS LARRIES IT'S ME NOSHITSHERLOCK"One drink is wasted.Two drinks is high.Three drinks is someone's toy.Four drinks is lovers."Harry's a bartender at The Suburbs in Cheshire. It's a normal Sunday night serving until his stepbrother of ten years travels ten hours by train from London asking for a Scotch and needing someone to talk to.Louis flees when his sexuality outing backfires and his friends stab his back. He can do with his stepbrother, so travels up north to see him. Harry cheers him up by creating three laws of liquor. The fourth is because of Camille, Harry's girlfriend, who reckons Louis won't score four different people offering him a drink in the time given.It also just so happens that their parents settle down from their world travels only to demand movie nights and church on a Sunday and the rest of their free time bonding after being apart for years.Harry should've introduced the fifth law of liquor: anything but four.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! This work I actually had up on Wattpad some time ago but took down because I was feeling so burnt out. I thought it would be a nice simple fic to ease my way back into writing full-length books again. 
> 
> This will be about 10 chapters, maybe less, maybe a little more :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! This is also over at Wattpad, my account is LouvableLou (which used to be Britished)
> 
> Extra note - I haven't restricted myself writing this purely because Louis is still experimenting with himself in this and I think it's important I explore his character to whatever depths I feel. If there is anything I believe is important to state, I will let you know in an author's note. 
> 
> This features bottom Louis :)

_**Prologue** _

 

Louis scans the field, appreciates the celandine flowers and buttercups amongst the spring green grass. The sky is streaked with shades of pink, purple and blue, the sun being slipped under the horizon line. There's the rusting of the tilted metal sign with _Cheshire_ written on it, paint peeling.

Six years ago when Louis was twenty, he fled from the disaster of his sexual identity. Smothered drastically describes how he felt back then having Anne, his stepmother, find out his infatuation with men via a scandalous video featuring a heated make-out session with the town's junkie. She had a lot of questions but loved him dearly nonetheless.

Harry, his stepbrother, found out purely because the junkie was his ex-older mate. He was pretty much infuriated for weeks, and when he stopped being excessive, teased Louis to death's end about his choice in men to swap spit with. Louis ran with his savings when his own father started pestering him with portfolios of photographs of worthy men to date - and not the town's junkie - in fear that he'd hit thirty and be unmarried.

He's more than halfway to thirty and still single as fuck. Louis didn't plan for six solid years of ditching his family, it's just that he met some amazing people who showed him the ropes of London, started university and didn't want to leave. Except for now where he finds himself fleeing again because those were the wrong friends to have and the worst company to come out to.

Louis sighs dramatically as the train proceeds to enter Cheshire. Harry will be surprised to see him, he thinks.

•

The first thing about standing in front of The Suburbs is that Louis never thought his lanky, quirky stepbrother would become a bartender. Harry had always spoken about being a childminder given his crazy obsession with babies and kids, he would even take online quizzes to determine his worth. Seeing him whipping up a Vodka tonic instead of blending raspberries and strawberries into a sippy cup is strange.

The second thing about standing in front of The Suburbs is that it brings back nice memories of the nights where Louis would go out for a family drink with his dad and Anne. Harry would never be there, underage at the time, but the cretin still would plague Louis' phone with calls and texts, anything to be the centre of attention instead of throwing a party in their very much empty house.

The Suburbs bar, in general, is where Louis snogged the town junkie and his ex-best friend, Nick, recorded the video. When it all happened, Louis hadn't accepted his sexuality yet, hence his flee. It's just dandy that's where Harry serves over that Vodka tonic to a dark blonde, thumbing her cheek playfully.

Louis rolls his suitcase over, right up next to the dark blonde, plops down on the bar stool and takes the icy glass of alcohol out of her hand, plucking the slice of lime off, tossing it onto the counter and sipping on the drink. He's faced with Harry's bulging eyes and the dark blonde's gaping mouth.

"Hazza, you make a sexy bartender," Louis jokes with his stepbrother, creating shapes with his index finger on the glass coated with condensation. He smiles innocently, looking into his eyes. "I've missed you."

"Lou?" Harry double takes, blinking in shock.

"Boobear in the flesh," he confirms Harry's doubts, nonchalantly taking another sip from the glass of alcohol and finally passing it back to the dark blonde who raises her eyebrows in suspicion.

"Hold on," the blue-eyed girl starts, "Boobear? As in Harry's stepbrother?"

"That would be me," Louis smiles. "Someone's been blabbing about their step-brother to model faced women- oh, now I'm out of my seat."

He barely is able to regain his balance after Harry exiting the bar and dragging him off his seat into a massive bear hug, Louis' arms squashed against his sides.

"Now my feet aren't on the ground," Louis squeaks out, slowly being suffocated in his stepbrother's hold. "Oh! Okay! Harry, that's enough, woah! You were always one for hugging," he brushes off his sweater, finally coming face to face with the green-eyed lad.

"Holy mackerel," Harry pokes at his nose earning a swat to his hand. "Oh my God, it _is_ you."

Louis glares. He's always hated getting tapped on the nose. He realises how substantially taller Harry has grown and immediately shrinks up. His stepbrother is gorgeous and quite frankly, Louis is jealous.

"You sodding cunt! You disappear for _six fucking years,_ no calls, no texts, only to show up out of the blue like that's perfectly alright and- oh, God, how I've missed you."

Louis is scooped up into another hug that's less asphyxiating, allowing him to wrap his arms around Harry's middle and snuggle into his chest. He then remembers the reason why he's in the bar instead of lingering outside with a hot guy waiting for Harry's shift to finish.

He pulls away, smiling innocently up at his six-foot stepbrother. "Babycakes, considering you've missed me, would you be willing to permanently lend me a set of your flat keys?"

The green-eyed lad tilts his head. "Of course, Boobear. What's up?"

"I just want to be around people that love me no matter what," Louis mumbles, looking down at his feet. "It's not every day you come out to your best friends only for them to call you a faggot and ask 'who could ever love you?' I guess I should have seen it coming," he bats away a tear furiously. "I mean, Kate and Alfie always hated those bendable rulers and Freya was practically a nun-"

"Hey, don't cry," Harry rubs his back soothingly. "Let me serve you up a drink on the house," he walks back around the counter.

"Can I have a Scotch?" Louis perks up, taking a seat on the bar stool again and leaning forward intently.

"Sure thing."

Harry grabs a glass, pouring him some Scotch. The dark blonde girl has a disapproving look on her face that he finally sees and causes him to stops what he's doing.

"Bullocks. Shit, sorry," he apologises to her. "Louis, this is Camille, my beautiful girlfriend of two years. Camille, this is Louis, my stepbrother of ten."

Camille seems to lighten up in her seat, the anger washing from her face and a sweet smile appearing. She turns to Louis and shakes his hand. "Lovely to finally meet the stepbrother Harry never shuts up about."

"Lovely to finally meet one of Harry's girlfriends who isn't a complete slut who's digging him only for his looks and ends up screwing somebody else the next night. Two years is a long time to put up with this quirk-ball."

Camille ignores the shade thrown and Louis' vague attempt to expose her out of the habit of being a protective stepbrother. There is nothing to expose. She loves Harry and that is why she's with him.If she were with him just for his looks, she'd easily get offended and defensive to hide the truth.

"Louis," Harry warns him with the tone of his voice.

"Sorry," Louis nimbly apologises, sipping on his drink and looking down at the counter.

Harry senses his change in mood just as he's whisked away to serve up someone else. It's awkward for Louis to sit there with Camille, especially since he's not in the right frame of mind. He's wholly thankful when Harry pops back up.

"What's on your chest, Lou? Other than those fickle friends of yours?"

Louis glances at Camille, wary of spilling his guts to his stepbrother whilst she's there. Then he figures that he may as well because he has no doubt that Camille lives with Harry and he'll be living with them. The curly-headed lad wouldn't survive two years of distance even if it was the space between his fingers when all he wants to do is hug the life out of people and cuddle.

The blue-eyed boy sighs. "I just want to be loved and accepted for who I am and what I like. I've never had a problem with you, dad or mum. I don't want to have a problem with anyone, but that's a luxury I don't have," he frowns. "It's so hard to feel okay with myself when the people I've spent the last six years with aren't. Bloody hell, I'm twenty-six already and dad wants me married at thirty," he laughs sadly, a tear falling. "That would be nice."

"Oh, Boobear," Harry strokes his step brother's fringe out of his eyes. "You need some cheering up."

"I need another Scotch, that's what I need," Louis slides the empty glass over.

"You can't drink away your sorrows," Harry disapproves although refills the glass and slides it over.

Harry catches a few of the men in the bar nearby staring at his stepbrother, anticipating the moment when he's alone. An idea sparks in his head and he smirks.

"Or can you?"

"Can I wha- hey!" Louis fights back for the Scotch that's being stolen away from him. He gives up when the glass is placed under the counter and Harry's smiling at him innocently.

"You are going to have some fun tonight," Harry grins. "I am going to create the laws of liquor."

Louis rolls his eyes. "There are already laws of liquor. If you drink too much and get wasted, you're not allowed to drive that hot thing you found grinding on another man home."

Harry leans on the bar, hands beneath his chin and smiling like the angels have granted him all the pink flowers in the world. He's talking more to Louis than he is doing his job and his boss will throw him into shambles suggesting that he be sacked but for now, Harry's in a dandy mood.

"No, forget that. I'm going to give you three rules in terms of the number of drinks offered to you."

Louis raises his eyebrows, leaning forward, fakely intrigued. "Well, you've already offered me one so the game's already started," he winks. "Now offer me back that second Scotch so I can drown my sorrows without some corny game, please."

Harry deadpans him, arms folded. "No."

"Darn it," the blue-eyed boy pouts like a little child. "Hazza, I know I've been gone for six years but surely you still love me enough to-"

"Louis, shut up and listen," Harry groans in irritation. "There are eyes on you. You got that London vibe and it's sexy and someone's going to offer you a drink, I can bet on it." He sees Louis about to speak, "Excluding the one I offered you. I finish my shift in twenty minutes. In that time, the amount of drinks you get offered determines what you become for the night. I'll even throw myself under the bus - what _we_ become for the night."

Louis blinks.

"One drink is wasted, two drinks is high, three drinks is someone's toy. Good luck, bro."

"What the fuck? How exactly will becoming someone's toy cheer me up?" Louis questions, eyebrows raised.

"You also get to watch me become someone's toy and make a fool of myself," Harry rolls his eyes at his step brother's slowness. "We can be fools together like the old times."

"You know, I'm a little offended you think I could only score three drinks in twenty minutes."

"I think there should be a fourth rule," Camille states, a smirk on her face. "Four drinks equals lovers."

Harry looks at Louis, back to Camille and then throws his head back in a loud laugh just as Louis does. "Are you suggesting I do my stepbrother?"

"Yeah, I reckon I will get a good laugh out of it," she snorts, sipping on her drink. "Bloody Hell, Harry. I meant lovers with someone else for the night. I don't think Louis could score four drinks in fifteen minutes anyway."

"Is that a bet?" Louis challenges, sass written all over his face. "Do you really want to go there? I don't think you'll like Harry being lovers with a brunette for the night."

"I have no reason to be jealous or obsessive. I know Harry loves me and I know this is a game. Maybe this will prove it to you," she smiles sweetly, "And honestly, it's a little weird you want to do your stepbrother."

"Huh? What? No, I meant the brunette over there eyeing him up like he's the last tin of food, not me. You know what? Game on."

"Game on, Boobear," Camille smirks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't proofread this the way I usually do so I apologise for any spelling errors and/or plot holes I might have fallen into already or anything that doesn't make any freaking sense *insert upside down smiley face emoji*
> 
> This is also short cause it's the prologue. Additionally, I know on my NoShitSherlock account here on AO3, everyone's used to me writing like 4000-6000 words per chapter but I'm struggling a ton to reach that word count at this current moment in my life. I'm aiming to write about 2500-3000 per chapter per week, I know that's very little but I'm really struggling but still want to get stuff out here. On a good week, I may find myself updating 2 times or maybe even 3 times.
> 
> If you were/are a reader on my NoShitSherlock account, thank you for sticking with me! If you're a new reader, welcome and thank you for reading! <3
> 
> xox


	2. Chapter 2

The third thing about The Suburbs is that it has a metaphorical rainbow streaked across its existence and is simply filled to the brim with men with eyes for Louis. Harry knows that if he lingers around the spot where Louis is sat at the counter, none of said men would dare approach his stepbrother. However, it's unfair to be a sneaky stepbrother by hanging about in order to prevent any of the hunks in the room from advancing towards Louis.

Harry sulks as he moves away, mainly because in his mind Louis is still the twenty-year-old he was six years ago who Harry protected and cared for as a brother would do. Since Harry was thirteen and Louis was sixteen, Louis has always revelled in telling Harry he can stick up for himself, only to pull the bachelor in distress card. Naturally, Harry succumbed to being more of the heroic figure, despite being younger.

The inevitable happens. Harry should have known it would. Louis is pretty, he can admit that about his stepbrother, and the three drinks Louis receives proves it. He probably shouldn't have thrown himself under the bus, but he'd rather make a fool of himself and put a smile on Louis' face than not. When the fourth drink happens, Harry accidentally drops and shatters a glass. He's so not ready to sort of cheat on Camille. And when the fifth drink happens, Harry thinks he should have made a fifth law. Anything but four.

Wiping down the counter, the green-eyed lad puts the cloth down, steps away into the back room and finally finishes his shift as the new bartender steps in. Harry sees Camille through the crack of the door and she doesn't seem one bit bothered, off in the crowd dancing with some local friends as she waits for Harry. She'd do anything to prove to Louis that she's marrying his stepbrother eventually, and he has to accept her. Facing the fourth law, Harry's eyes roam the crowd until he picks out a blonde who could mirror Camille. He works his way over to his very tipsy, verging on drunk if not already stepbrother.

"I underestimated you, Boobear," he plops down next to Louis, the blue-eyed boy automatically latching his arms around Harry, head flopping lax on his shoulder.

"Tolds you so," Louis slurs, cerulean eyes gleaming with the bar lights.

"Zayn, I'm gonna need a shot for this," the curly-headed lad informs the bartender as Louis curls a leg over his thigh.

"I missed you Hazza."

"I thought you were dating Cami," Zayn says, filling a shot glass and sliding it over. Louis thumbs at the few drops of alcohol that wet the counter, licking it off is skin. "And I thought you were straight."

"Gross," Harry downs the shot. "Not Camille, or being gay, the fact you'd think I'm with Louis," he bats Louis' prying hands away that try to take everything from his pockets to fiddle with - he can keep the gum. "This is my stepbrother."

"Oh... Nice to meet you," Zayn reaches out a hand to Louis, but the brunette is too preoccupied with Harry's empty shot glass. "You intoxicated your own stepbrother?"

"Now that just sounds excessive. It's part of a game," Harry swings an arm around Louis' shoulder, pulling him off the bar stool. "Boobear, time to pick. Four drinks it is. Unfortunately, we didn't make a fifth rule."

"Zaynie," Louis smiles drunkenly, creeping his hand across the bar and to the bartender. "I pick Zaynie." Zayn smiles sweetly but pushes his hand away. 

"I would accept despite not knowing what you've picked me for but I'm on my shift and don't want to lose my job. How about I sneak you my number instead?" Zayn offers, mocha eyes glimmering hopefully. Louis perks up with intrigue.

"I like the sound of that."

"You can't choose the bartender," Harry speaks after nibbling on his lip. "Chose someone else." 

His stepbrother huffs, glancing around the rowdy bar. He picks out a solo drinker with a surfer dude vibe metres away from him. "I choose him." 

"I'm not allowing that." 

"What?"

"That's another junkie, and remember what happened last time," the green-eyed lad warns, thumbing at Louis' back soothingly. "Pick someone from over there," he gestures with his chin.

"Tattooed guy, he's hot. Tell me he's gay," Louis leans off his chair, ready for the taking.

"That's Liam," Harry grins. "Quite a good friend of mine. He doesn't have a title. He just is what he is. Go. It's going to be fun watching you win him over for the night."

"I don't know," the blue-eyed boy hesitates, even in his drunken state. "I don't want to do something that will cause the entire town to talk about me again."

"Oh, bugger," Harry claps his hand down on Louis' back. "Everyone's too busy talking about Olivia St. Clair. Suck it up and enjoy yourself." 

"I'd rather not."

"But you agreed to this game to cheer yourself up," Harry pouts. Louis rolls his eyes.

"I agreed because it would get me free alcohol."

"Liam's very nice," the curly-headed lad pushes; he wants nothing more than his stepbrother to have a good first night back home, but the smaller boy isn't how Harry remembers him. Louis would be up for anything, drunk or sober, not hiding behind a thorned wall fearful that something will happen. It's been _six years_. Longer than the time they've spent together.

"Take me home," his stepbrother speaks softly, eyes on the ground. The sudden mood change is a slingshotted brick to Harry's face, but when he sees the tears welling up in Louis' eyes, without question he gestures to Camille, mouths a _night_ to Zayn and after gripping onto Louis' suitcase with his free hand, guides him through the people. 

It's nippy outside, despite summer being around the corner. The green-eyed lad feels the goosebumps rise on Louis' skin, the smaller boy's fluffy head tucking into Harry's neck as they stop outside the bar, cheek pressed against collarbone. Louis' substantially smaller hands creep up around Harry's middle, linking and resting on the middle of Harry's back. Eyes closed, Louis waits for Harry to let go of his suitcase and return the hug.

"You owe me a drinking game," Harry mumbles into his feathery hair, kissing his head. "You also owe me six years." There's a lack of reply from Louis, the boy simply breathing in his stepbrother, missing him dearly. Harry glances at Camille who stares at the passing cars blankly, letting her boyfriend have a moment with his stepbrother. "Cami, call a cab please."

"Uh, yeah, sure," she snaps out of her daze, fiddling for her phone.

The green-eyed lad focuses his attention back on his smaller stepbrother. It's strange how little Louis feels against him, like a tiny teddy bear bought from the store out of the newborn section. That's clearly an exaggeration, but something along those lines. 

Harry rocks him gently, nothing more to say, wishing he was there in London when things went south for Louis.

•

A drag of nails against the painted walls wakes Harry up from his light sleep. Glancing at the alarm clock, the curly-headed lad realises he's only been asleep for fifty minutes, in which he's spent the majority of that time tossing and turning due to the loud wind that has crept into Cheshire. The banging of the loose sign against the road post outside doesn't help, and in one of the apartments next to his, there's a heated argument going on, a few glass objects here and there breaking. 

The green-eyed lad sits up, switching on the lamp before his eyes focus in on the figure that wanders around his room, nails lightly scratching the walls. Harry rolls his eyes.

"In some ways, you haven't changed."

"Not one bit," the blue-eyed boy grins in the dark. "I'm still Bloody Mary appearing in your room at night for a good ol' cuddle." 

"Louis, it's not the good ol' times, this where me and Cam-" 

Louis watches his stepbrother realise that Camille isn't beside him in bed for a few seconds before letting out a loud laugh. "Camel Toe left here approximately fifteen minutes ago. I think she's cheating," Louis flops down on the bed beside Harry.

Harry rolls his eyes for a second time. "She's probably popped out to her mum's house a few blocks down. There's always spare insulin there, and stop insulting my girlfriend."

"She's diabetic?" Louis hugs the spare pillow next to Harry close to his chest only to realise it smells of Camille and flings it right back into its place.

"Yeah, not cheating," Harry outstretches his arms, pulling Louis down to his chest. The blue-eyed boy sighs contently. "Why are you here other than for a cuddle?"

"I didn't finish the game and I feel guilty because I know you wanted to make me happy," the smaller boy confesses. "Do you have a shift tomorrow night? If not, I want to continue it."

"It's fine," Harry brushes back Louis' hair, looking down at his stepbrother on his chest. "Tomorrow night we could go to the cinema instead and watch a movie."

"Ugh, boring," Louis squirms in Harry's arms, trying to get more comfortable. "I actually want to continue the game. That Liam guy was rather handsome and I was just having a drunk moment earlier."

"And you are _still_ drunk and talking out of your ass, so realistically, you _don't_ want to continue the game."

"Hey, now you're shoving words into my mouth and making no sense in the process. I'm perfectly fine! We're continuing that game. You and me, brother," Louis presses, propping himself up on Harry's chest so he can look the curly-headed lad in the eyes.

"No," Harry sighs, gently nudging Louis off him and turning his back to him. 

"Hey," Louis creeps an arm around Harry's waist, holding him close from behind. "It's okay if you don't want to do what Camel Toe told you to do, you know, act the way you do to her with a stranger. I get it."

There's a lack of response from Harry, Louis pouting in response to that. The smaller boy removes his arms from around Harry and lays on his back, staring at the ceiling and ignoring the fact his head is exactly on Camille's pillow. A moment later, Harry is switching sides to face him, draping his arms around Louis' waist and inviting him in. Louis gives in, letting Harry draw his back to his front. The blue-eyed boy misses this, and the light kiss Harry gives to his temple.

"It's not that," Harry states quietly. "I just don't want you kissing anyone."

"What, because of what happened six years ago? You seemed pretty okay with the idea back in the bar. You pretty much wanted me to."

The green-eyed lad falls quiet, responseless and caught out. 

"What is it?" Louis questions.

"Nothing," Harry reaches over to the bedside table and turns off the lamp. "Go to sleep."

"Excuse me," Louis flops around, stretching over his stepbrother to switch the lamp back on and then face him. "Speak to me, Babycakes. What's going on? I promise I've learnt from my mistakes. Don't kiss the town junkie in front of everyone when I'm still shaving my legs in the closet." 

"Please, go to sleep, Boobear. I don't have the answer you want to hear."

"Does it have anything to do with you and I six years ago?" Louis questions, subtly gulping back the lump in his throat. 

"Everything," Harry says, switching off the lamp one last time to hide his cheeks that redden embarrassment. "Every single thing." 

"Is it what I think it is?" Louis asks, annoying his stepbrother by turning the lamp back on again before slowly coming to rest his head on Harry's chest, again, brain trying to process everything. 

"It's exactly what you think it is," Harry loops the blue-eyed boy's hair around his fingers, playing with his strands.

"You like me."

"I like you," Harry hums, arms wrapping around Louis' waist to pull him up and closer. "Very much. You know what I get like to. Extremely jealous. I just try to hide it by acting like I'm not." 

"You like me," Louis repeats. He figured it out way back when but just didn't say anything about it. How can he say something about it? Harry is his _stepbrother_ , of all things. "What about Camel Toe?"

" _Camille_. And I don't know," Harry sighs. "I didn't expect for you to come home after six years."

"You should have created a fifth law," Louis states, staring off into the distance, unsure how to finally confront something he's always suspected. "Anything but four, because then we wouldn't be talking about this right now." 

"We were bound to talk about it, now or as we're casually sipping ghost tea in our graves that would be next to each other." 

"You know how utterly screwed up liking me sounds to Mum and Dad?"

"Hey, at least it's not incest!" Harry defends himself. "You like me too, you're just too coward to admit it. You always were, so you kissed my ex-mate because it was the closest you could get to kissing me."

The boy falls quiet, regretting coming into Harry's room. He doesn't want to be talking about his mistakes from six years ago. He doesn't want to be talking about one of his biggest secrets with the person it involves. He gets up to leave. 

"God damn, I need some Prosecco."

"You need to shut up," Harry pulls him back down, Louis stumbling over the edge of the bed, falling ass first onto Harry. The blue-eyed boy gulps, feeling his stepbrother beneath him. Light green eyes glisten with the lamplight, Harry's cheeks a cerise red, lips parted as he breathes.

"You have gotten awfully rude," Louis comments but doesn't fight Harry's large hands squeezing his wrists and pulling him down. "Awfully daring too."

"And you're just as awfully annoying as you were way back then," his hands creep under Louis' tee, running over his smooth skin. "Kiss me. Lean closer and kiss me." 

"Stop fucking commentating this like we're on a gay festival broadcast. You kiss me without telling me and I kiss back." 

"What is this? A drama piece where we use Brechtian's technique? Stop narrating our actions."

"Brecht who? Fuck, you stupid shit. Now we've wasted a whole two minutes of kissing. That's a whole two minutes closer Camel Toe is to getting back."

" _Camille_ and you're the one whose mouth runs like tap water. _Shut up,_ " Harry drags out, cutely frustrated. 

"No, you _shut up._ Don't tell me to shut up, that's so fucking r-" 

He's attacked with his stepbrother's soft lips clasping his, Harry's large hands gripping his cheeks, the green-eyed lad's well-maintained skin cotton soft on Louis' face. Louis hurries to untangle his fingers from Harry's tee that have somehow ended up there before locking his fingers in Harry's strands. 

The taller lad rolls his stepbrother over, impatiently attacking his neck with bites and kisses, trailing down until the collar of Louis' tee interrupts and Harry's fighting to get it off him.

"Fuck, no, no, no. This is where we screw up and Camel Toe comes back and I'm left with blue balls," Louis pants out, body contradicting his words as he lets Harry begin to strip him. "And I bet you don't have the kind of condoms I like. The ribbed and dotted ones. Or even lube! Yeah, you're that dumb ass kind of person that fucks last minute, therefore is unprepared and-"

"Who said we were going to fuck?" Harry smirks, amused.

"Oh," Louis blushes intensely. "I just thought-"

"I want to fuck you so hard, Boobear. Want you to feel me in you."

"Ew, no," Louis cringes, letting Harry remove his pyjama trousers. "No dirty talk. Now hurry up and fuck me, Babycakes." 

"I _do_ have the ribbed and dotted condoms, just for the record." 

•

"Your parents are on their way up." 

Harry groans, rolling over in bed only to begin to crush his stepbrother, stirring him awake.

"Move, you big doof," Louis insults him, inching away. 

Harry purposely elbows Louis in response, only to snap his eyes open when he remembers everything. "Oh shit."

"Oh shit what?" Louis mumbles into the pillow his head rests on. _Still smells like Camille._ "Oh shit, yeah. _Oh shit._ "

"'Oh shit' one more time and I will burn the breakfast I've so kindly started cooking and set fire to this entire apartment."

"That's some crazy bitch," Louis whispers to Harry only to get lightly whacked. Harry doesn't even try to explain to Camille why him and his stepbrother are naked in the same bed, he just rubs his hands over his face and tries to process the fact he's just flushed two years of a nice, solid, working relationship down the drain for his stepbrother that disappeared for six years.

"Cami, I-"

"Stop," she scoffs, holding a hand up before crossing her arms. "I just said your parents are on their way up here. You both have less than a minute to get dressed, and I have less than a minute to put on the fakest 'I'm fine' act I've ever put on in my life."

Harry goes to open his mouth again but the bedroom door is slamming shut and the doorbell to their apartment is ringing. He's the first to get up and put on some clothes whilst Louis watches him hastily fix himself up, the older boy evidently entertained with the smirk on his face. 

Trust Louis to find it sort of funny that he's started a war between Harry and Harry's girl of two years.

"Pack your things, my boy, and book all the rest of your days holiday left in your job. You're coming home for a while."

Harry raises his eyebrows and lets himself be engulfed in his Mother's hug. She hasn't changed one bit since she left to travel the world with Mark who takes a seat on the couch, clearly judging Harry's choice of apartment colours. _They're so hard to please sometimes._ Anne's still got those old-fashioned black sunglasses covering her eyes even though she's inside, and that old scarf from her mother, the kind that looks beautiful being taken in the wind down the freeway in a convertible with the hood down.

"We've been trying to get through to Louis over in London but he doesn't seem to be picking up," Anne takes the glasses off her face, looking around the living room. "You know, son, I thought you'd pick an apartment a little more... expensive."

"Expensive?" Harry laughs. "You stopped giving me an expensive  _allowance_."

"Oh, right. That we did," Anne takes a seat beside her husband.

"Have you heard from your broth-"

"Hold up, Harry has an allowance?" Louis questions, ready to have leapt into his mum's and dad's arms before he heard that. He places his hands on his hips, disappointed. "Talk about unfair. Where's mine?"

"Stop being spoiled," Mark says. "You've had enough in your account to run to London and spend six years in that expensive place... When did you get here? Come here, my boy," he stands, opening his arms wide. Louis flicks him the middle finger, only then does he leap into his father's arms. 

"I missed you, Dad." 

"I missed you too, Son." 

"Hold up, what do you mean I'm coming home for a while?" Harry backtracks. 

"The both of you are, and Mark and I have decided to settle down from our world travels. We haven't seen our babies in forever so we want you both to come home for a while. We're thinking a ton of family outings and movie nights to bond again."

"And church on Sundays," Mark adds.

"Oh, yeah!" Anne smiles brightly, "And church on Sundays." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure Camille is not diabetic in real life but it fit the story!  
> Hopeeeee you guys liked it and also,  
> thanks a ton for the reads and kudos so far. Lots and lots of love! <3
> 
> This is also on Wattpad!  
> @LouvableLou


End file.
